He looks tall, to me, and burly, like someone who played football in high school. Gray-haired, with some extra weight around the middle, he carries his daughter to school every day through the long winter months, wrapped in a blanket.
I saw him this morning, as I do most mornings, walking back toward home as I waited in line with my van-full of kids. He walked down the sidewalk toward me with the now empty blanket draped casually over his shoulders. It looked to be a quilt made of the sort of colors that bring to mind a Winnie the Pooh motif, a baby blanket, maybe.
Most days I’ve noticed him and most days I’ve thought, “Really, you carry her?” There’s part of me that still thinks it’s a bit much – his daughter’s in first grade at least – but today I saw it differently.
Today I recognized the value – the depth – of a love that carries.
Grown men don’t often walk around with baby quilts draped over their shoulders, but this one does, and as I write I’m reminded of those pictures of Christ the good shepherd walking with a lamb draped over his shoulders. In those pictures that lamb is you, is me, is us – we who’re being carried, wrapped in those incarnate arms of love.
I often wonder whether she’ll even remember the way
she was carried each frosty, breath-catching morning. Maybe she won’t and certainly a day will come when she says, “No more.” But slow-dancing in the kitchen with one of my bitty-boys on my hip, his head tucked into my shoulder, I know the truth, that being held, being carried, shapes us deep within in ways that can never, ever, be forgotten.
This post is linked with #Tellhisstory.
This is lovely Kelly, thank you for observing and for sharing. It makes me curious to know the rest of the gentleman's story. Your bitty-boys are blessed to have your hip to ride and tender heart to embrace.
Thanks so much Pat.
Oh yeah. You just … Yeah. The thing is …
Girl, you can WRITE.
#speechless
Thanks Jennifer, that makes me smile.
Beautiful Kelly. I echo Jennifer's comment, you can write girl. I'm so touched by the imagery of that father carrying his daughter.
Thanks for stopping by Shelly.
Ah, to be carried this way, by a Daddy who loves like this…such a beautiful thing.
Thanks Laura, and thank you for sharing:)
Beautiful. Moved to tears…In the past two day, I've had so many beautiful Dad stories flooding my social media…and I can feel, through them, my Dad reaching out to me from Heaven.
Kelly,
My Dad carried me for what some would say was too long, but then they wouldn't have known the the whole story. I look back with fondness on that, for when I was weak (sick with cancer) he carried me.
Thank you for sketching what you saw and believing that there was more to the story. Recently, I've been recalling how my Dad carried me.
I'm so glad Jennifer highlighted you!